


Heroes

by GameOverGambit



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, just dudes being bros i swear, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:58:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameOverGambit/pseuds/GameOverGambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroes don't always get happy endings. </p><p>AU in which Robin's bond with Grima works just a little bit differently, inspired by grima-of-nohr's headcanons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes

His world is crumbling. 

Chrom uses the legendary Falchion as a walking stick in order to keep his balance under the shifting dark scales of the Fell Dragon. The clouds are dark, air charged with a primal power, and winds strong enough to tear his skin right off his bones. The exalt can faintly hear his own labored breathing, an intense pressure in his chest from no doubt a broken rib. He hears the screaming, the frantic yells of Frederick the Wary as he screams at the top his lungs for his beloved not to leave him for the sweet embrace of death, as he screams for Lissa to please hurry. He’s never heard Frederick scream, and just the experience makes a bile rise up in his throat. 

He takes another shaky step forward. 

Chrom is close. He knows he’s close. Grima, _the Grima_ , who had the audacity to don the face of whom he trusted the most, is trembling now, stewing in the pain of countless injuries inflicted upon his vessel throughout this bloody battle. 

He’s so close. Just one swing, just one jab, just _anything_ and this nightmare will be over and- 

Robin gets there before he does and Chrom feels the oncoming waves of dread drown him. 

He hobbles a little faster now. There must be something wrong with his leg but he can’t be bothered to care, he just needs to get there quick, stop him somehow, do anything other than watch Robin willingly give up his life to this _monster_.

He knows he won’t get there fast enough. He calls out. 

“Robin! Don’t, please! Let me do this!”

He can’t believe what happens next. Chrom has killed enough men by his own hand to know that right before death, that one split second before the world fades to black, is one of absolute terror as the reality of the unknown dawns on one. He could see that raw emotion flash through their eyes right before they become empty as Chrom cuts them down. The split seconds of fear he has witnessed have accumulated over the years, into minutes, hours, days; it keeps him up some nights. He expects that from Robin, as he looks towards Chrom while charging up the final spell. His face was supposed to twist, his eyes had to go wide as the utter terror of the unknown grips him.

Chrom would have at least been ready for that. Instead that smug _bastard_ has the nerve to smile, that charming smile that could be used to disarm even the angriest drunken Feroxi.

Chrom doesn’t have the luxury to drop down and cry as the resounding boom of a fully charged Thoron spell echoes within the walls of his head and dragon below him starts spiraling out of control. 

“Children of Man, you have done well.” A warm, ethereal voice calls out. He and his Shepherds are blanketed by a shining light and suddenly Chrom has dry earth underneath his feet rather than dark purple scales. 

On the horizon, there is a mighty boom as steam rises from the corpse of the now defeated Fell Dragon. 

It’s all over now.

“Well that didn’t go quiet as planned.”

Chrom spins so quickly that he is sure he twists an ankle. Robin is there, genuinely curious about the fact that he still exists at this very moment, carefully inspecting his arms and prodding himself. Injuries be damned, Chrom literally flings himself forward and tackles the tactical genius right down to the dirt. It’s like he’s a kid again, when he would wrestle with Ylissean cadets out in the royal gardens. 

“Argh, stop that Chrom, I think I have some sort of internal bleeding. Stop this, you’re like an overbearing pup!”

Chrom hops onto his feet, pulling his closest friend right up onto solid ground. 

“You had me worried there for sec. A divine being had basically forecasted your death if you did what you _just_ did.”

“I was never one to follow orders. Not even my own orders.” Robin dusts himself off. “Yet a question remains: Where do we go from here?”

Chrom can feel the effects of the last battle catch up with. There is tiredness in his bones, and finds himself leaning for support on Robin. He turns to his Shepherds, raising the Falchion skyward.

“Let’s go home.”

 

There has always been this stigma about Ylisse. Ylisseans are always uptight and elegant, they throw balls not parties, and they are the biggest lightweights when it comes to rum and ale. But that night, Chrom had made sure to throw a celebratory gathering that would surely put even the rambunctious Feroxi to shame. So it really is a shame that when he wakes up under the dining room table the following morning after the bash, that he doesn’t remember a damn thing. Surely it must have been amazing.

Hangover or no, the Exalt had duties to attend to. Frederick zips around tirelessly cleaning up last night’s events and complaining about a stain that won’t come out as Chrom walks around with fellow advisors, planning out the rebuilding efforts of both Castle Ylisse and a war torn countryside. Robin, Chrom’s greatest voice of reason, doesn’t show up till noon, looking a little worse for wear.

He claps him on the shoulder as they walk towards their respective chambers for the night.

“Feeling alright friend? You’ve been quiet for the majority of the advisor meetings. Do you take issue with any of these new policies?” 

Robin chuckles. “Oh anything but that. That was quite the party you threw, Flavia looked mighty proud. Still feeling the effects I guess.”

“The hangover will pass, they always do. Give it some time. Have a goodnight, Robin.” He’s about to step away, but he pauses at the last second. “And, if those nightmares you spoke of still follow you, just remember that...we’ve won.”

“We’ve won.” Robin repeats, like a prayer. 

As it turns out, the hangover doesn’t pass. The following day, Chrom had a couple tonics delivered to Robin’s door and demanded that he have some bed rest but the tactician would have none of it. He never did. Like a fool, he continued his duties as Grandmaster where Chrom could to see his health begin to whittle away. 

First it was the headaches. Robin would never explicitly say when he was in pain, but Chrom could tell, the little twist in his mouth and knitting of his brows. He only did that when he was either intently focused on a concocting a strategy or when he trying to keep pain from tearing him apart. 

Then Chrom would notice the sickly paleness. Robin was always quite pale to begin with, even during the war, the man would only leave his tent for one of two things: to converse with his fellow Shepherds or for Panne’s carrot soup. But this was different though. A tiredness would roll off him like waves and it even made Chrom nauseous at times. Robin’s once fair skin was hot to the touch, for when once their hands brushed against each other’s when studying an Ylissean map, the exalt had found himself recoiling back from the sudden spike in temperature. 

“Robin, as the Exalt of Ylisse I order you to take some sick days. You look like hell, I really mean it.”

“Chrom, I’m fine, really.”

“You could have fooled me. I’m dead serious, go get some rest immedia-”

“Chrom, I said I’m _fine_.” The sheer aggressiveness of the statement made him take a physical step back. “I’ll get these plans to you as soon as possible. You need to stop worrying so much, it’s a nasty habit of yours.”

Robin doesn’t stop working until his legs give out. Chrom had simply been walking to a council meeting when he sees Robin hobbling towards him, using the castle wall as support. Chrom rushes forward the moment he sees the tactician begin to fall forward. 

“Cleric! Cleric!” He tries to get Robin back onto his feet, so he could more properly use his shoulder as support. “C'mon Robin, don’t pass out on me. I’ll give you a good beating if you do.”

“Chrom they won’t work.”

“What?”

“My legs, they won’t work. I can’t feel them.”

A different kind of panic surges within him as his continues his calls for help, voicing cracking in twenty different places. 

Twelve different clerics and caregivers are called to Robin’s room and not a single one could point out the cause of his sudden collapse. When the all finally mill out of the room on the exalt’s orders, he collapses onto the seat next to Robin’s bedside. 

“Nothing like a little breathing room huh?” 

Robin is silent. They stay like for a while, in silence, until Robin leans back, closes his eyes, and whispers, “I'm scared, Chrom. My thoughts are tangled, and everything is going numb. I feel almost as if I'm unraveling, ever so slowly.”

Chrom looks at him intently. Unraveling? He can't say he knows what that feels like, to be turned inside out in the way which Robin describes. Regardless, he reaches out to grip his friend's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. 

“Robin,” He looks him dead in the eyes. “I swear on Naga’s name that I will do _everything_ in my power to get you back on your feet. I swear it.”

Robin smiles and it's like he's on Fell Dragon’s trembling back all over again. Chrom swallows down the bitter memories of that day; this time he’ll be damned if can’t burden Robin’s pain.

 

Three more days and Robin begins disappearing. He’s so pale now, translucent almost, and Chrom hardly leaves his side. He eyes have sunken and the man has lost so much weight, they you could see the ribs poking out of his linen shirt.

Robin has reported difficulties breathing. Chrom has to remind him sometimes to focus, or else he worries the Robin will forget to breath completely. The very concept of staying alive requires almost all of Robin’s attention and energy, so he no longer sleeps, just focuses on breathing, keeping the feeling in his limbs, simple pleasures he once took for granted. 

The rest of the Shepherds visit often. There’s hardly moment where it’s just Robin and Chrom, it’s always Robin, Chrom and Gaius, or Robin, Chrom, and Cordelia. The Shepherd that isn’t visiting Robin is out there, scouring Ylisse and beyond for the most obscure tonics and medicines, praying that by some miracle it will cure Robin of this otherworldly illness. 

It’s late one night, and strangely enough Robin and Chrom find themselves without the company of another Shepherd. Chrom finishes cooling off Robin’s herbal tea, a recipe Libra himself had recommended, and brings it over to his bedside.

“Robin,” He says softly. “You’ve gotta try this tea. Libra said it might ease some pain.”

“It won’t work.”

“You won’t know until you try it.”

 _“I said it won’t work.”_ Robin snaps his head towards him quickly. It’s the fastest he’s seen him move in days. “Gods, Chrom, can’t you see what’s happening?”

“All I see is a friend who’s a little under the weather. We’ll find a cure for this soon enough, I swear it Robin.”

The tactician laughs, but it’s short and broken. “It’s happening, what Naga said, it’s happening.” He brings his arm up from under the covers, rolling up sleeves so you can see the dark brand of the Feel Dragon, now barely visible, upon his hand. “This brand...my connection to Grima, it’s fading away, and I with it.”

“Pegasus dung, you struck down Grima and you were still standing. You survived and we won and-”

“I’m _scared_ Chrom. I’m actually really scared of dying. Not because it may hurt, not because of the friends I leave behind, but because I don’t know what happens next, and I hate _unknowns_. I’m a tactician for Gods’ sakes and it’s my job to predict the unknowns but even I haven’t got the foggiest clue as to what happens when one just doesn’t wake up.”

“You’re not going to die Robin. It’s just some disease we’ve never encountered yet and-”

“You are so _thickheaded_ Chrom. You can’t do anything about this, my fate was sealed the moment I killed Grima and we can’t do a thing about it. Stop being so _goddamn stubborn_.”

“I’m not being stubborn!” Chrom slammed the tea cup into the ground and Robin flinches. The mighty ruler of Ylisse finds himself on his knees, right over the broken porcelain, sobbing right into the tactician’s sheets. “I just know what it feel like to lose your closest friend, and I don't ever want to feel that way again. I lost you once on Fell Dragon’s back and that monster can’t take you a second time, not from me, not from the Shepherds. Not again.”

He must look pathetic. His best friend is suffering and in another world of pain but here he is, throwing a tantrum like a child. Yet, slowly, a warm hand threads through his hair, and Chrom opens his eyes through his tears to find that Robin is suddenly glowing, looking healthier than he has in days and smiling softly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s going to be okay,” Robin repeats softly, continuing to stroke Chrom’s head and running his hand through his hair until the tears cease. Even long after Chrom has calmed down, Robin continues his motions and they both fall into a comfortable silence. 

“We’re going to beat this you know.” Chrom says after a long time. “Tomorrow, I’ll send Lucina and Lady Tiki down to Mount Prism, to get some advice from the Divine Dragon herself. We’ll beat this.”

Robin just smiles, sighing contently. “Mhm. You should get some rest Chrom. You look like hell, milord.”

Chrom snorts. “Like you should be one to talk.”

Robin just laughs, full of life and completely genuine, and for a moment Chrom thinks that everything will be okay.

“Alright,” Chrom eventually caves. “But just promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up.” If he hadn’t sounded like a child before, he surely sounds like one now. Robin says nothing, though. 

“I promise, Chrom.”

Chrom doesn’t make an effort to move, he just stays there, on his knees, with the majority of his upper body resting on Robin’s bed. Ever so slowly, he feels sleep overtake him. His blinks become longer and slower. The last thing he sees before he succumbs to the power of sleep, is Robin leaning back comfortably into his pillows, also allowing himself to be taken by a sweet slumber...

 

Chrom awakes to birds chirping and the first thing he wants to do is scream. 

He’s alone. 

Robin’s not on his bed. He’s gone, faded away into nothing. 

“He promised.” And Chrom can’t stop the silent tears from falling.

Robin had left everything behind. Ylisse, those mountains of books in his study, the souvenir saké from Valm, the Shepherds, his favorite coat.

Him.

Chrom didn’t say a word, just wrapped his arms around himself as he silently mourned and resigning himself to the fact that heroes don’t always get happy endings.

**Author's Note:**

> *throws myself into the sun* I'm so sorry if this is bad, I did not know what I was doing. 
> 
> Thank lord Grima for such "wonderful totally not painful" headcanons. 
> 
> This turned out way more gay than I expected it to be but that's totally fine, who isn't down for s'more Chrobin.


End file.
